


The Francis Zach Morgan Depression Hour

by Lennonhead



Category: Deadly Premonition | Red Seeds Profile
Genre: Dysphoria, Gen, Identity Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25343722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lennonhead/pseuds/Lennonhead
Summary: Takes place between the ending of the first game and the beginning of the second.Zach struggles with self-hatred and grief.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	The Francis Zach Morgan Depression Hour

Zach was trying to not cry again. He was tired of it.

The pure fatigue was what made him feel like crying, though, so it was sort of recursive. 

He was tired of the four walls of his apartment. He was tired of DC, but had no energy to go travelling. He was tired of food, just any sort of eating, nothing tasted good anymore. He was tired of people calling him, and tired of responding with "I'm okay, really". He was tired of his "mental wellness break", after 6 months, but didn't know what he would do upon returning to work, if you could call what he would do "returning". He was never an agent. It was never him.

Most of all, Zach was tired of being alone.

There we go. He started sobbing, loudly and uncontrollably.

York... He missed York. He missed York so, so much.

York would probably be more eloquent in explaining this pain Zach felt. York would say... Christ, Zach couldn't even come up with anything. He felt like an idiot.

Eventually, Zach calmed down enough to be able to go into the bathroom and wash his face. The cold water soothed the skin around his eyes, and he looked up at his reflection in the mirror although he didn't really want to.

He instantly hated the experience of doing so. He looked like a wreck. Zach appeared older than usual, he thought, and not in a dandy way, in an "aging homeless drug addict" way. His shaggy white hair didn't help (when did he get it cut? A month ago? How has it already been a month), neither did the scar that crossed his face. His head hurt a little as he tried again to block out the memories connected to his appearance.

The worst thing about how he looked was that he almost looked like York.

Zach scoffed. Of course he did. They shared a damn body. But whenever York had looked in the mirror, Zach could see the reflection too, and the reflection was York.

He thought about York's eyes and started tearing up again.

Zach had bought some black hair dye from the dollar store at some point, he already didn't remember. The box was in the cabinet under the sink, unused. Thinking about it made Zach feel pathetic, but also hopeful in a weird way. Maybe he could become York. He could put his nose to the grindstone and study all the skills that York excelled at. Zach was the crack shot of the team, so that didn't need changing. He could wear suits like York did. He could listen to more Joy Division. Francis Morgan would continue being a hotshot special agent like his father, instead of some depressed, schizotypal basketcase in a studio apartment rapidly filling with garbage he keeps forgetting to take out.

But his eyes...

Zach sighed. It was impossible, and he felt bad for considering it.

He looked at the parts of his reflection that were more familiar. His nose, his lips. The scars of zits York habitually picked at as a teenager. Little nicks and blemishes connected to various cases they solved together.

Zach put his hand to the mirror, touching his reflection's lips. He looked at his, their, hand, sharply defined veins and fairly large. The hair on the wrist and arm.

Zach left the bathroom and went to the full-length mirror by his closet, their closet, a closet full of York's suits, all unworn for half a year. Seeing that body in a stained T-shirt and sweatpants filled Zach with a visceral disgust, and he stripped, down to his boxer-briefs that York never liked, and then he took those off too.

His body was a little less toned and a little emaciated from these six months off duty, but it still looked more like York than his face did. Zach touched the mirror, trying to reach his reflection like he was pulling someone out of water. He studied his body with a sense of manic urgency, the dip of his collarbone, his shoulders, his pecs, his belly, his cock, Christ, York's cock, God knows where it's been, Zach kept getting weird texts on his cell, York's thighs, York's hairy legs, York's feet with calluses from running in loafers like an idiot. York, York...

Tears fell from Zach's wide eyes. He gripped the sides of the mirror and rested the side of his face on it.

"York?" He asked.

He waited.

"York, are you here?" He asked.

He kept waiting.

"York, I know you wanted to rewatch Who Framed Roger Rabbit, I found the VHS at a thrift store the other day, we can watch it together, if you come back. It's been so long I hardly remember it, I know you do though," rambled Zach.

Impatient, Zach started shouting, "York, come back, come back already!"

Zach's neighbour knocked on the thin wall separating their apartments.

The effect was like the floor had disappeared beneath Zach, and he immediately felt like throwing up.

He ran to the toilet and did so.

Zach grabbed a box of cigarettes from the side table as he went back and sat on the bed, took one out, and lit it with hands shaking so much it was probably dangerous to do so. He took a drag with as deep a breath as he could muster, then coughed it all up.

Zach actually didn't like the taste of cigarettes.

**Author's Note:**

> Slight Deadly Premonition 2 spoilers:
> 
> Lena implies that she thinks that the York-Zach dichotomy is like a trans narrative. I was very intrigued by this statement. I had that in the back of my mind while writing this.
> 
> Also, regarding DP2, I laughed out loud when they mentioned York not liking okra! If Swery and I have a psychic connection, or, god forbid, he has read my fanfiction, that might explain something...
> 
> Lastly, I want to say thank you to those who have read my previous fic. Your comments warm my icy heart, like a microwave's defrost setting.


End file.
